


I'll be your mirror

by derenai



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e03 The Wicked Day, Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 10:46:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derenai/pseuds/derenai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after 4x03 the Wicked Day. Merlin is still shocked by his role in Uther's death and decides not to use magic again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll be your mirror

The hall was silent, except for the occasional guard doing his patrol but Merlin didn't hear them. He was oblivious to everything around him, not even sure anymore of where he was and yet painfully aware of the man mourning in the next room. He didn't feel the hard cold floor on which he sat or the wall on which his back rested. Pain was the only thing left in his mind. So much so that his limbs felt heavy and numb and he wasn't sure he could use them again. But inside… Inside he wasn't numb. Inside there were a thousand ants gnawing at him, eating him alive. A hand clenching his heart, digging its nails in the flesh, letting him bleed and yet not killing him. He wished it did. He didn't care anymore, as long as the pain went away and the memories faded. But they didn't. The scene played again and again in his mind. The grief in Arthur's eyes, the hatred. His spell would have worked without Morgana's enchanted necklace. Merlin knew that and yet it didn't soothe his mind. He was the one who casted the spell that turned against Uther. He was the one Arthur wanted to kill. He would never forget the way Arthur had looked at him when he'd taken out his sword. It would never stop burning his soul.

The sound of the door opening made Merlin's heart jolt and brought him back to reality. He wasn't sure he was ready to look at Arthur, not after hearing him explain how he felt responsible for his father's death and how magic was evil. Yet he couldn't ignore him when he called his name. 

"It's a new day," Arthur stated as Merlin turned to him.

The warlock looked through the window behind his friend. He hadn't noticed the sun shining until now. It felt wrong after all that had happened. He'd somehow expected the weather to mirror his mood, dark and miserable.

In the middle of these considerations, Merlin realized he must be a sorry sight, slouched on the floor. A gloomy servant wasn't what Arthur needed. So he gathered his courage and stood up, fighting to control his numb and heavy body. "Have you been here all night?" Arthur asked.

"I didn't want you to feel that you were alone."  
"You're a loyal friend, Merlin."

The warlock looked away, too ashamed to withstand his friend's gaze. He would have been so pleased to hear such a compliment had it come a few days before. Now he couldn't accept it, not with everything weighing on his mind.

Arthur closed the door and said: "You must be hungry."

"Starving," Merlin answered although it wasn't true but it seemed the appropriate response.  
"Me too… Come on, you can make us some breakfast."

Arthur stepped towards the staircase and Merlin followed. He felt nauseous at the very thought of food but he went to the kitchens anyway and brought back something to eat back to Arthur's chambers.

They sat in silence. Merlin was nibbling at his food, forcing himself to eat because it wasn't every day that Arthurs invited him to share his meal but he was too aware that he didn't deserve the honour to enjoy it. Despite having been a traitor since the very day of his arrival in Camelot, he had never felt so ashamed for it before. Or maybe he did, actually, and that was even worse. It wasn't the first of his mistakes that had cost lives. The memory of the carnage he'd caused when he'd set Kilgharrah free was still fresh in his mind. To that he could add every time he'd just set things right before his foolishness led to another tragedy. An idiot could make much damage but when that idiot happened to be a sorcerer then… Then the slightest mistake could have dreadful consequences. 

Suddenly Merlin wasn't so sure his powers were a good thing. He wouldn't go so far as Uther and say that magic was a thing of evil, he knew it too much for that. Placed in the wrong hands, though… And Merlin had proved that magic was dangerous when used by him. He'd just killed the King trying to prove Arthur that magic was good! How could have the outcome of his actions been further away from his intentions? How could it have been more despicable? And not only because Uther died but because sorcerers would continue to be persecuted for crimes they hadn't committed. And it was his entire fault.

This train of thoughts made him sick and he put down his spoon. He'd only ever had the best intentions but it wasn't enough. What if he killed Arthur next time? He couldn't take the risk. He had made his decision: he would never use magic again.

***  
Merlin was riding behind Arthur and Leon, silent and gloomy. Gwaine had tried cheering him up but tired of his mindless chatter, the servant hadn't been able to refrain telling him to shut up. The knight was now chatting with Percival and Elyan to Arthur's utter despair who tried countless times to explain they wouldn't catch any prey when making so much noise. Merlin didn't really care about that hunting trip. He'd come because he had to and was following the King like the good servant he tried to be. 

It'd been a month since Uther's death, a month without magic, and Merlin felt empty. He'd never been someone special nor good at anything. He was the worst manservant of the whole world, as Arthur had too often reminded him, and he'd never been able to learn anything about healing when Gaius tried to teach him. Without magic he was just a clumsy fool. He didn't remember having ever been so useless in his life. He could have given up; he'd always he might as well die if he couldn't use magic but it felt wrong. He was loyal to Arthur; he wouldn't let him down like this, even if he wasn't much help now. He could still make his life easier, though, and that was what he was trying to do by becoming the perfect servant, or as close to it as he could be. He wasn't late anymore. Most of the time he remembered where he stored Arthur's thing. His chambers weren't a mess anymore. He worked more than he used to but he didn't mind. It prevented him to think and tired him enough so he could sleep most nights. He needed to do something he was proud of, even if it was insignificant compared to everything he used to do. It wasn't enough, though. He couldn't stop wondering what he was if not Emrys. What was the meaning of his life if not to save Arthur? Without magic he was all but a dead and empty shell.

Gaius was worried, he could see it. The physician had tried numerous times to convince him to change his mind, to reassure him that he wasn't dangerous but Merlin didn't believe a word. He'd seen the pain he could inflict, the evil he could do. He would never cast a spell again, not even the simplest, most harmless one, although it was sometimes tempting when he had piles of Arthur's clothes to wash or his armour to polish. Yet every time, he could see the rage in Arthur's eyes again, the sword ready to behead him and it was enough to put the temptation at bay.

Merlin felt hair rise on his neck as the group entered a path surrounded by two steep slopes, so similar to the places where they so often walked into an ambush. He could very well imagine Arthur teasing him for his cowardice and the King would have been right. The servant had become a coward. It was no wonder, though. He'd always been too clumsy to use a sword. Without magic he was defenceless so his sense of danger had been considerably altered.

As much has the servant had hoped to be proven wrong, he heard shouts ahead and suddenly six mounted men were on them. Leon and Percival immediately put themselves between their King and their foes, taking advantage of the narrowness of the path to put him away from danger. Gwaine turned around to watch their back as Elyan stood ready to help them. Within a second, Merlin's head was concentrated on the battle and had worked out all the spells he could use to protect his King. Then he realised. He'd made himself a promise. And he wasn't even sure he could use magic without hurting any of his friends.

He noticed Arthur beside, giving him a reproachful look when he noticed his servant hadn't even taken out his sword then shaking his head in disbelief. Merlin grasped his weapon, harmless in his hand, and his jaw clenched with anger. He was useless again. Only a burden for the King who had to protect him. Merlin's chest was tight from the frustration.

At least, the knights were holding well. Two of their enemies were already lying on the ground. Something felt wrong though. No one had come on their back to divide their forces. No archer was standing on top of the hills. Their enemies had chosen the perfect place for an attack but they weren’t taking advantage of it. They could have been a pack of unorganised bandits, yet Merlin didn't want to believe it. He'd get used to prepare for the worst. And the worst came.

He didn't see the arrow but he heard Arthur groan. Then there was a shout and suddenly all their enemies were gone. When Merlin finally registered what happened, he came closer to his King to help him, only to be waved away. “I’m ok, Merlin. It only stings a little.”  
Yet the warlock could see how Arthur’s jaw was tense. He was going to tell his friend off for being so proud but the King suddenly seemed to fight for his balance, his chest swaying slowly. “Arthur, are you alright?”

The King didn’t answer. His face had turned pale. He struggled to sit straight a few second longer then he collapsed on his horse’s neck. “Arthur!”

Alarmed by Merlin’s shouts, the knights ran to them, pushing Merlin away in the process. Sir Leon examined the wound as well the arrow and soon determined the obvious: a normal shot wouldn’t have so strong an effect, thus the weapon had been poisoned. That would also explain why their foes had ran away so quickly and seemed so badly organised. They didn’t want to kill them all; they were only targeting the King, taking him down in one of the most cowardly way. If the King died, leaving no heir behind him, the kingdom would be weak and whoever planned this attack would have a perfect opportunity to attack. It all made sense.

Sir Leon treated the wound as he could, preventing the King to lose too much blood. Then it was decided that they returned to Camelot as quickly as possible, as no one in the group was able to treat the King. Sir Leon mounted with Arthur, ensuring he didn’t fell off his horse, and they were gone.

They rode without stopping, pushing their mounts to their limits, as Arthur turned paler and paler. They couldn’t go on forever, though, and finally, when the sun had set and it was becoming difficult to see, Sir Leon announced they were stopping for the night.

“You’re not serious!” Merlin exclaimed, drawing a few surprised looks to him.  
“Merlin, rest assured that I care for the King’s well-being as much as you, but we cannot continue today. “  
“Look at him, he won’t make it through the night. We must-“  
“And you, look at the sky. There’s no moon tonight. Soon it will be pitch black and all we’d achieved is to get ourselves lost. And the horses need to rest. We’ll ride at dawn.”  
“But-“  
“Merlin, you’re not in place to contest my orders.”

The warlock jaw clenched and he dismounted. He knew Sir Leon was right but there was no way they would make it to Camelot in time to save Arthur if they stopped for the night. He helped settling the King on the ground, near the fire Elyan was making. All he wanted to do then was to sit beside Arthur, as if his presence could cure him but it wasn't possible. He had to tend the horses and cook diner. He did those chores painfully aware of the body lying on the floor, stealing quick glances more often than not to ensure his state hadn't gotten worse.

As soon as he was finished, he was at the King's side, yet nothing had changed in his absence. Arthur's face was still grey and, even though someone had taken off his chainmail to help him breathe, his chest was barely raising. He seemed dead already. Merlin couldn't bear this sight. Yet somehow he couldn't look away either, as if he was afraid that the King would die as soon as his eyes turned away. He felt his throat tighten. He'd been so busy until now, so concentrated on riding his horse at a crazy pace, on the fact that they had to get back to Camelot, that he hadn't had time to let the whole situation sink in. Now, stuck in the middle of the forest, still at least half-a-day ride away from Camelot, he realised Arthur was really dying and had little if any chance to survive. His stomach was rolling at the thought, his heart a bundle of thorn flesh. He couldn't imagine the consequences and not only because he was worried for the Kingdom. He couldn't imagine his life without Arthur.

He was on the verge of tears when somebody sat down beside him, dragging him away from his thoughts. "You should rest. I'll keep an eye on him," Sir Leon said.

Looking around, Merlin realised they were the only ones awake. He was exhausted but as much as he appreciated the knight's offer, he couldn't accept it. "Thanks but I want to stay here. I couldn't sleep anyway."

"As you wish. Wake me up if something changes."

Merlin nodded, still staring at Arthur. Sir Leon stayed beside him for a while then he was gone and the servant hadn't noticed him leaving.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Arthur couldn't die so young, mere weeks after his coronation. He was supposed to be a great king. And Merlin was supposed to protect him but here he was, watching him die. He knew a spell, though, one that could cure poisoning. He'd been reciting it on and off in his head. He was certain of the words, yet he couldn't bring himself to say them aloud. The scene that had happened the last time he'd used magic was still burning his mind. The fear still consumed him. What if something went wrong? What if he killed Arthur? No, for once in his life he'd been rational and he'd made a difficult but right decision. Magic, placed in his hands, was dangerous.

The King's breathing slowly became ragged, something hissing in his chest. It wouldn't be long now. Merlin grasped Arthur's hand, shivering at the coldness of his skin, fighting the tears. Why hadn't he paid more attention to Gaius' lessons? He could have saved him, like he'd done so many times in the past. He would have swapped their places if it had been possible. He would have done everything. Everything except the one thing that could actually work. So there he sat, useless, watching his friend die. He wanted to scream. To rise and destroy everything around him, the whole kingdom, the whole world, because no one deserved to live if Arthur didn't. And this last burst of anger would be the last spasm of his soul.

Yet Merlin didn't move. He realised it was stupid to be angry at the world when he was the only one capable of saving the King's life. Something deep inside him urged him to cast the spell but his dread paralysed him.

He realised he was crying when his vision blurred. He was still holding Arthur's hand in his, refusing to let go, every rasping breath tearing his soul apart. "I'm so sorry," he whispered and gently stroked Arthur's cheek. And suddenly the pain became stronger than the fear. He couldn't let his friend die without even trying to save him. What did he have to lose? What could be wrong in fulfilling his destiny and helping the King? And if he made a mistake, then what? Arthur would die anyway.

He carefully placed his free hand on the King's chest and recited the spell. A familiar flux of magic ran from deep inside him, through his arm, his hand, towards Arthur's body, and he realised how much he had missed that feeling. Heart pounding in his chest, he waited for something to happen to confirm the spell had worked. His grasp on Arthur's hand tightened. Then little by little, the hissing in the King's chest faded until it completely disappeared. Colours slowly returned to his face and Merlin could breathe again. 

Reluctantly, he let go of the King's hand, knowing he had nothing to fear anymore. Yet he didn't go to bed, just to make sure Arthur's recovery wasn't temporary.

Merlin must have fallen asleep because he woke up to the sound of Arthur's moaning. The warlock's eyelids protested at the lack of sleep but opened at last. Dawn was breaking, casting a soft light on the still sleeping camp. Hurried footsteps came closer and Sir Leon sat at Merlin's side, staring worriedly at the King. He opened his mouth to say something when, with more groaning, Arthur opened his eyes. "Merlin?" he asked in a croaked voice. "Sir Leon? What ha-" he cut off, wincing from trying to sit up too quickly.

"Sire? How are you feeling?" the knight inquired.

"As if my head is going to explode and my leg were ripped in two. What happened? I remember the bandits but nothing after that."

"You were shot by a poisoned arrow during the fight then the enemies fled. We feared for your life so we headed back to Camelot to treat you but we had to stop for the night. Why you are awake and well is a mystery to me. I didn't think –" Sir Leon cut off, unable to say aloud what he'd feared. Instead, he turned to Merlin with a questioning glance.

"I cured you," the warlock said quietly. "Gaius taught me how to make a serum against this type of poisons, which only requires plants easily found in the woods. The pain in your head should fade soon. I couldn't do anything for the leg."

Despite the pain, Arthur managed to snort. "You? I didn't even know you could learn something."

Merlin's jaw clenched. He wanted to retort that the King was pretty lucky he wasn't as useless as he thought or he would have been dead for years but it would have been compromising. Instead, the warlock stood up and left before he couldn't keep the pain from showing on his face. 

It hurt, so much ingratitude, after the internal battle he had fought. Of course, Arthur couldn't know that but after all the times Merlin had saved the King in secret, he'd hoped at least for a "thank you" the one time Arthur knew. He'd never been one to seek reward nor praise but being mocked was a little too much right now. He was tired of the way the King treated him sometimes. He hadn't even said a thing when Merlin had turned into a perfect servant, or as close to it as he could. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered to help Arthur. But there are feelings you can't explain nor understand and the ones the warlock had for his King were among them. Deep inside, Merlin knew Arthur was an upstanding person. He was fair and considerate to his people, merciful to his foes. The warlock also had to admit he was kind with his servant. Merlin was so far from what a manservant should be, yet Arthur accepted his messiness, his insults and sometimes even his advices. He doubted anyone else would have kept him at their service, let alone trusted him. Merlin only wished the King was a bit more grateful sometimes.

Around the warlock, the camp was slowly coming to life again, each knight enquiring about the King's health as soon as they were up. Shortly, the place was full of joyful chatter, far from the gloomy atmosphere it had born the night before. Merlin saw Gwaine inviting him to share his breakfast with him but he wasn't in a mood to talk and ignored his friend. He sat at a distance and ate in silence before preparing the horses.

He was nearly finished when he felt someone beside him. Turning away from the saddle, he discovered Arthur. With a quick glance, Merlin noticed he appeared healthy again then turn back to his fiddling with the saddle. As the silence stretched and Arthur didn't leave, the warlock felt obligated to ask: "Are you feeling better?"

"I still need Gaius to have a look at my leg but other than that, I'm fine."  
"Good."

The word sounded colder than Merlin intended. He expected Arthur to tell him off or load him with instructions but instead, he rested his hand on his servant's shoulder, startling him. "Merlin," he called gently.

The warlock looked up to meet Arthur's deep stare, not angry as he'd thought, but gentle and grateful. His anger washed away. "I owe you my life. Thank you."

Merlin tried to think of something to say to this but found nothing so he just held Arthur's gaze, for the first time in weeks. Its warmth made him feel slightly dizzy, yet it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. He finally felt accomplished again, useful.

It took the King somewhat longer than necessary to remove his hand, give his servant a nod and walk away. Merlin watched him go, a smile on his lips. Maybe this moment would replace the one of Arthur ready to kill him in his mind. Maybe he would remember this friendly and thankful gaze more often than that hateful one. He hoped so. And now that he had proven himself that he could use magic without harming anyone, to make things right, then maybe he would dare use it again.

****

Merlin was late again. Arthur was pacing in his chambers waiting for him, contemplating the clothes scattered on the floor. Somehow he felt home again. He didn't understand the sudden change in Merlin's attitude, all the efforts he'd made to be a good servant, but he was glad those days were over. It had felt wrong, so much tidiness, so much deference. Merlin hadn't even talked to him anymore except when it was necessary for his job. He hadn't looked him in the eye either, just bowed the neck and accepted his orders without a word. Time spent with him had become boring. Arthur had been worried.

He'd never seen Merlin's eyes so hollow, his face so serious. It was painful. So much so that Arthur had tried being excessively unfair to him, giving him an endless amount of chores, just to provoke a reaction and yet Merlin never protested. He seemed dead inside. As if everything that made him Merlin was gone apart from his loyalty. Arthur had tried to ask questions but they were all left unanswered. Even Gaius didn't know what to do.

Arthur had been thinking a lot during that time, about how things were different when Merlin wasn't his usual self. He wasn't ready to admit the conclusions he'd drawn though. He was grateful for his servant's cheerfulness and innocence after a day of difficult negotiations or painful decisions. Even after a normal day of duty to the Kingdom, filled with the perpetual fear of making the wrong choice. He was grateful to have someone who didn't see him as a king, someone who didn't hesitate to tell him the truth even when it meant showing him his mistakes. Merlin might not understand much of politics or military strategy but he was honest and loyal. So loyal for a simple servant, Arthur was still amazed sometimes. Knights were trained and honour-bond to serve their King but even amongst them, there were few who would so readily give their life for him as Merlin. Sometimes he wondered if he deserved it but usually, he was just grateful to have someone he could trust without a second thought. And he needed it. In the perpetual game of power he was part of, full of complots and allies becoming foes, he needed a loyal friend. He needed Merlin. And one day, maybe, he would admit it openly.

 

_When you think the night has seen your mind_  
 _That inside you're twisted and unkind_  
 _Let me stand to show that you are blind_  


**Author's Note:**

> The title and the lyrics at the end come from the song "I'll be your mirror" by The Velvet Underground.


End file.
